


your name is a curse that I cannot escape

by Ellesra



Series: KHR rare pair week 2020 [4]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dual Identities, Dubious Morality, F/M, Human Trafficking, Identity Porn, M/M, Soulmate AU, dead children, superhero au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24912010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellesra/pseuds/Ellesra
Summary: Mukuro can't remember a time when he looked at the name scrawled messily over his heart with anything other than disgust. From a time before he could recall, he had always been beholden to someone. To the family who fostered him and experimented on his body; to the people who helped him burn that family to the ground; to the system that would never accept his version of the truth. There was always someone who would look at him and think he owed them. Many times they would be right, and just the thought of that made him grit his teeth and clench his hands into fists and want to burn the world to cinders.Instead he smiled, and plotted, and watched people make their own ruin.///In a world where the mundane and the supernatural entangle, where you get born with a name that you can't change or get rid of, where corruption infest the cities like a plague, Rokudo Mukuro does what he has to in order to survive and thrive.There is only one thing he can't control about his life, and that is the cursed name he carries upon his heart.
Relationships: Chrome Dokuro & Rokudou Mukuro, Chrome Dokuro/Yamamoto Takeshi, Lancia & Luce (mentioned), Rokudou Mukuro/Sasagawa Ryouhei
Series: KHR rare pair week 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1800307
Comments: 12
Kudos: 10
Collections: KHR Rare Pair Week 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [KHR_Rare_Pair_Week_2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/KHR_Rare_Pair_Week_2020) collection. 



> **Prompt:**  
>  June 24: Lightning Day - Curses

Mukuro can't remember a time when he looked at the name scrawled messily over his heart with anything other than disgust. From a time before he could recall, he had always been beholden to someone. To the family who fostered him and experimented on his body; to the people who helped him burn that family to the ground; to the system that would never accept his version of the truth. There was always someone who would look at him and think he owed them. Many times they would be right, and just the thought of that made him grit his teeth and clench his hands into fists and want to burn the world to cinders.

Instead he smiled, and plotted, and watched people make their own ruin.

After that he should have been free, for all intents and purposes. Nothing should have been able to stop him with the powers he had, and with the position he had in the eyes of others.

Yet he was still kept. Beholden. Promised to a stranger he knew nothing about.

_Sasagawa Ryohei_. It was a simple name, not one that gave any expectation of grandness or a particular kind of background. The scrawl was messy, but could easily belong to both a simpleton and a person who simply didn't have the time to write neatly. Doctors and crooks alike could have indecipherable text; while Mukuro could assume the person wasn't born to private tutors and tall standards, the script could easily be a way this person fought against such an upbringing.

The lack of certainty was maddening.

Every media conceivable told grand tales of how you were destined to meet your One, and how you were also destined to love them. Mukuro had heard enough stories from murky pubs and shady streets to know that love was cheap, and a One would easily become none with the right incentive.

Even so it took him years before he decided that he was done. He would no longer accept to have this name as a chain. So he walked, through dark alleys and staggering crowds to get to the one person he knew could easily help him find his target.

He was surprised when he found another person standing outside the apartment's entrance.

"Shimmer," he greeted, hiding his bemusement behind a smile. The superhero nodded at him.

"Phantasm," the man greeted in his deep voice, a hint of something fond in how he eyed Mukuro through his mask.

Shimmer, or "The Relentless Sunbeam" as some of the papers liked to call him, was one of the superheroes that Mukuro had the most tolerance for. The feeling might not be respect, but he at least didn't feel the same simmering annoyance as he usually felt whenever he saw someone else by that designation. Shimmer had a similar goal as Mukuro, and dealt with his opponents in a ruthlessly straightforward manner. It was a stark contrast to Mukuro's way of manipulation. 

The man also had a control over his own body that Mukuro found fascinating.

Fascinating, and useful.

"What are you doing here?" he asked amicably as they walked together into the apartment building.

In the darkness of the unlit hallways, Mukuro wondered if he could actually see a flicker of a glow coming off Shimmer's skin. As he let his eyes fall onto the man, he determined that he must have been imagining things.

"There's a shipment coming in," Shimmer explained shortly, his eyes never leaving the hall in front of them.

Few people wanted to look at Mukuro when he was in his disguise. He cloaked himself in illusions, black and purple shadows in layers across his skin until his face was impossible to recognize. In addition he always made certain to show something more gruesome if people's gaze lingered too long.

Shimmer's eyes never lingered. In fact, he never seemed to pay Mukuro much attention at all, unless it was to warn him of some sort of danger or situation he should be attentive of.

Mukuro didn't like admitting how that annoyed him at times.

"I see," he replied. There was no question what kind of shipment Shimmer was talking about. The superhero usually didn't care much about drugs or weapons.

The offer to help was on his tongue, but they arrived at the destination before he could truly consider saying it.

Shimmer rapped on the door, three times in quick succession. Then he walked in.

Another thing to note. Mukuro was not comfortable enough with this person to just walk into the apartment unprompted, but Shimmer clearly was.

The apartment was like a separate world from the shaded corridors and shadier streets. Wooden floors and square, modernistic furniture led the way into an airy living room. The apartment was mostly white walls and ceilings, the inventory cutting into the blank slate in black and blue, accompanied at times by purple or green. There were windows, but it was impossible to see through them as they were obscured with shutters.

On the leather couch that was sided by a glass table sat Reborn, legs crossed and newspaper open in front of him. He was like a scene from a film noir, and Mukuro could appreciate the dramatic image he portrayed.

The man didn't as much as glance at them as he kept reading his paper. Shimmer put a wad of bills onto the glass table. 

The crinkling of paper was the lone sound in the room as Reborn folded the paper carefully. Only when it had been placed beside the money did the man look up at Shimmer.

"Ciaossu," Reborn greeted cheerfully.

Mukuro stood casually to the side as the two discussed. Neither were trying to hide their conversation, and so he made it no secret that he was eavesdropping.

In the end Reborn gave Shimmer a time, a date and a name. Mukuro made a mental note to research the information once he was out of there.

He waited for Reborn's gaze to settle on him before he stepped forward. Shimmer stepped out of the way. For a moment the man seemed uncertain whether to leave, but seemed to settle on staying as Mukuro placed his own payment upon the table.

"I need to find Sasagawa Ryohei," Mukuro said silkily, his smirk widening to mirror Reborn's. That expression alone told him that he had chosen correctly. Reborn knew how to find this person, this name that Mukuro's endless google searching and casual inquiries had failed to locate.

"Yes. That name is not unknown to me. What would you like to know?" Reborn inquired.

Mukuro felt strangely aware of Shimmer's eyes on his back. He was being observed, and as brutal as the superhero could be at times, it was perhaps not safe to inquire too deeply in the man's presence.

"Just an address would do. I might ask more at a later date," Mukuro informed. The sum he had given should be worth much more than a simple location, after all.

Of course, that entirely depended on who this Sasagawa was.

"Certainly," Reborn said, and bent to rip free a piece of newspaper. On it he wrote an address in curling, elegant letters.

"Thank you," Mukuro replied politely as he received the slip of paper.

Reborn was still smiling at him in that enigmatic way of his. Mukuro considered asking another question, just to try and get some sort of reaction out of the man. In the end he decided that no, asking anything more would give too much away. Mukuro didn't want anyone to know the importance of this single name. It was bad enough he'd had to admit to _any_ interest.

_What kind of name do_ you _hide, I wonder_ , he thought idly as he and Shimmer exited the apartment. It felt like an impossible thought, that someone was destined to be together with the most terrifying hit-man in the world. Mukuro had certainly never _seen_ Reborn with anyone, even if he clearly had some sort of history with the Scorpion. 

Mukuro glanced over at Shimmer as they left the building. He'd expected the man to leave immediately, seeing as he was not one to exchange idle chatter. Yet Shimmer was practically hovering, his frame uncharacteristically tense.

Perhaps the information he had gotten was more alarming than Mukuro had originally concluded.

"If you stay around any longer people will get the wrong impression," Mukuro muttered in a teasing tone, looking straight into Shimmer's masked face. The man met his gaze, staring steadily back.

On most other people, this was the point where Mukuro would turn his illusions up a notch. He didn't bother doing so this time.

"Hmm," Shimmer intoned after a rather prolonged staring contest. Mukuro smirked up at the man, who then averted his gaze.

"Have fun taking down traffickers, then," Mukuro said, and turned to leave.

"Have fun tracking down Sasagawa Ryohei," Shimmer countered as he walked away, something that sounded suspiciously like humor accompanying his dark voice.

Right. Shimmer might be one of the superheroes he tolerated, but if he mentioned this again Mukuro was certain he could find a way to kill the man. He raised his hand in a wave, before disappearing into the long shadows cast by the towering apartment blocks.

Time to make sure he wouldn't have to glare at that name in the mirror anymore.

///

The address he had been given belonged to a suburban area in a little town called Namimori. _How quaint_ , he thought derisively. He tracked the journey he would have to make, and found it was not very far from Tokyo. A mere train ride away. Sasagawa Ryohei had been so close this entire time, and Mukuro hadn't known. The notion made the contempt he reserved only for his soulmark rear up inside him.

"Boss?" came a cautious voice, from all the way over on the other side of the room. Mukuro's head whipped around to take in the space; Chrome had clearly been the one who'd talked, but the rest were also there staring at him with varying degrees of skepticism and fascination. Chikusa was looking like he considered going elsewhere; Ken was grinning widely as his eyes were tracking something to Mukuro's left; M.M was reclined on the couch, pretending to read even if her eyes weren't moving on the page. Meanwhile, Fran was hiding behind Chrome, eyeing Mukuro with feigned fright.

It was not an uncommon sight. Mukuro's assorted family were familiar with his temper, and knew when to keep away. They also knew when to interfere.

"Are you alright?" Chrome continued, leaning against her staff. Judging by the clothes she was wearing, she had clearly been working out. Her face had that healthy flush that it rarely had otherwise.

Mukuro took a moment to eye the illusions dancing around him before reigning in his powers completely. "Yes," he answered.

As they disappeared, both Ken and Fran bounced over like nothing had happened.

"Are we going on a trip?" "Can we come?" they said in unison. Fran draped over Mukuro like a cloak, their bright hair brushing against Mukuro's ear. Ken kept a bit more distance, but instead leaned over the computer to peer at the map Mukuro had been looking at.

"No. I'm only bringing Chrome," Mukuro replied, rolling his eyes at the twin whines that pierced both his ears. Brats.

"You always bring Chrome!" Fran complained, in the same way that they always did.

There was a reason Mukuro wasn't bringing anyone else. Not only were half the team incapable of keeping a low profile; they were also brash to a fault, preferring to rush into things and getting hurt in the process.

Chrome wasn't the strongest, nor the most charming. She did however have an unprecedented knack at digging up information and reading situations in a way that was a complete opposite to how Mukuro would. 

More important than all that though, was that they shared a curse. Except Chrome's curse was much worse than his would ever be.

"You all have work in the morning," Mukuro said instead of explaining. They usually knew more than he wanted them to anyway. No need to give them a head start.

There was grumbling from Ken and Fran; Chikusa pretended like he didn't care, opening his computer and starting on whatever project he had going; M.M slowly started moving her eyes on the page she was on.

Chrome was looking at Mukuro expectantly.

He got up and motioned for her to follow. She came with him into the kitchen. Mukuro put the dishwasher on; the old machine would drown out almost all conversation. He sat down in one of the chairs by the table there. The chair gave a warning creak as he put weight on it.

"How are your dreams lately?" he asked. Chrome's expression shuttered immediately, and Mukuro glared. The glare wasn't for her; it was meant for the cause of her suffering.

"I.. I had one, last night. He was killing someone again," she said, her violet gaze focusing beyond the meager kitchen they were sitting in.

"Who?" Mukuro requested. He knew Chrome didn't like talking about it, but at the same time it could be valuable information. More than once her visions had warned them of some drastic political changes. Whether those changes had been positive or not remained to be seen.

"Councillor Gamakiri, I think. It was hard to see, but it looked like him."

There was a shot of silence between them, the dishwasher thundering in the background as it washed the dishes too harshly.

"Was there anyone else there?" Mukuro asked.

Chrome shook her head. 

He couldn't help but feel relieved. Whenever there were bigger casualties in her dreams, especially if there were children involved, Chrome took it hard. She'd withdraw, and either exercise until her body gave in or stare at the wall for hours.

This was her curse, and sometimes Mukuro couldn't help but pity her for it.

"I'm going to find Sasagawa Ryohei tomorrow," Mukuro revealed. Chrome's gaze immediately moved back to him, eyes wide.

"Ah," she said.

Chrome was the only person who actually knew. Who Mukuro had told the name to. Part of it was because she understood, perhaps more than Mukuro ever had, what a curse a name could hold.

"Are you going to..." she whispered, after a minute of pause. 

He could have lied and answered with certainty. He could have lied and said _no_.

"I don't know," he answered instead, for the first time giving space to the thought that he wasn't actually _sure_. He wanted to be, he ached to know with conviction that killing Sasagawa Ryohei would improve his life. That it would give him a meaning to his life, which now was filled with doing good and doing bad and never reaching that point that felt only just out of his grasp.

"I want to," he started, his voice getting a steely tone, "but at the same time it's something that I can never take back. I will never have the same opportunity again."

"You want to get to know him first," Chrome elaborated, and this time it was her who spoke with pity. Mukuro grimaced, and then reined in on the flickering illusions that were covering his eyes with a black haze.

"If I meet him I'll know for certain," Mukuro explained, though whether he was explaining it to her or himself he didn't know. "If he's a blemish on the earth like yours is, then I'll finish him right there. And if he isn't... Then I guess I can let him be. If he's just some mundane living a normal life, with a wife and two kids, then I'm not going to take that away from him. It's... Unnecessary."

Not to mention that killing someone in cold blood was something Mukuro had never done. It had always been in the heat of battle, or as self-defence. He'd never committed _murder_.

Wouldn't it be ironic if his first and only murder was his own soulmate?

Chrome didn't protest, despite killing being one of those lines she'd never cross. It was one of the things Mukuro valued about their relationship: Chrome wouldn't assign him her morals, and in turn he respected her boundaries as well. Neither demanded that the other change for their comfort, and Mukuro had found it a great comfort to form a relation that was unconditional. Chrome only needed someone that was there for her. In return, she gave of herself without reservation.

"When do we leave tomorrow?" she asked. Her voice was barely distinguishable from the noises that surrounded them.

"Noon. If he's not at home when we get there, we will do some recon beforehand."

Chrome nodded. Her attention stayed on him, and Mukuro assumed that she was wondering whether anything else needed to be discussed.

"Sleep well," he dismissed her. She nodded once more, got up from the chair and left the room.

Even after Chrome left the room, Mukuro sat there thinking about everything and nothing. His mind would not linger by a single subject, and had managed quite a few leaps between topics before someone else entered the room.

It was M.M, her book clutched in her hand.

As she got closer she put the book on the table in front of him with a loud "thump".

"Please look through it," she demanded, her voice having that hard edge it usually got whenever she was feeling insecure about something.

With raised brows, Mukuro opened the book to leaf through pages upon pages of blueprints, technical guides and one very detailed rendering of a single, red gemstone.

He chuckled as he got to the descriptions on the owner of the stone and the house they kept it in.

"When are you planning to do this?" he asked, head leaning on his palm as he kept slowly reading through the guard details.

M.M was silent long enough that he glanced back up at her.

"I need to find someone to help me with it," she said, and she clearly wasn't happy with it.

Ah. Mukuro had known there must be some ulterior motive in showing him her extensive planning. 

"I think I know someone who might help," he replied. "For a price."

He watched as M.M let out a breath, the tenseness of her posture relaxing somewhat.

"Ah, great! Yeah, I was planning to ask Lancia, but I'm not sure when he'll be home. And he's usually good for a distraction, but I was wondering if I could manage everything with no one the wiser this time. I'd prefer to leave the walls intact for once," she said. There was a glint of something excited in her gaze, and Mukuro smiled in return.

"I'll see what I can do," he said, simultaneously wondering how hard it would be to get a hold of Mammon of the Varia. From what Mukuro had heard, Mammon never could resist the promise of a large pay-day.

///

The train ride to Namimori was almost too short. There was a crawling feeling of nervousness that Mukuro hadn't experienced in a long time, and it was made no better by how out in the open they were. Chrome was a calming presence at his side. Her hand grasped his, and it was like the touch itself was pulling at that frenzied anticipation. It made everything manageable. Mukuro thanked his own foresight in bringing her. 

Throughout the trip they kept each other company in silence. Even as they left the train station and started walking, Chrome merely followed, half a step behind him. 

They walked out of the town and into a more suburban area, and Mukuro was starting to feel a niggling of doubt. He should have left Chrome at the train station. He shouldn't have involved her. If he decided to kill Sasagawa Ryohei right away, there was no way he could have her there. Chrome would forgive him most things, but Mukuro wasn't sure this was one of them.

Even so he kept a hold of her hand all the way over to the house with a wooden door with a white plaque that said

**Sasagawa  
Kyoko & Ryohei!**

Pulling in an unsteady breath, Mukuro knocked.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Angsty Mukuro with mood swings and dead anonymous kiddos in this one

The door opened, and in front of them stood a woman.

She was rather plain-looking in a way that could be considered pretty. She stood at a height with Chrome, long hair pulled back into a ponytail. Hazel eyes were crinkled in an honest smile, and it was a pleasant sort of expression. Mukuro immediately disliked her.

_Sasagawa Kyoko_ , he supposed.

So he had been correct in thinking that Sasagawa Ryohei already had a partner. Looking at her, she seemed to be of a similar age to he and Chrome. 

"Hello," she greeted, looking at the two of them. Then she paused, waiting for them to introduce their reason for being there.

Mukuro considered saying that they were at the wrong place.

"Hello. Uhm, is Sasagawa Ryohei-san at home?" Chrome asked before he could pull back. As she said this they could hear a crash from upstairs. The woman standing in the door giggled.

"Ah yes, that's him making a racket," she grinned, and stepped back a couple of steps. "Brother! Visitors for you!"

Mukuro found himself smacked in the face by his own preconceptions. Siblings. Sasagawa Ryohei was living together with his sister, not his wife. 

It was unusual to be doing so at their age, but not unheard of. It did make Mukuro feel a sort of emotional whiplash. He'd already dismissed the entire trip as a failed venture, and then he'd gotten those expectations turned on their head.

Sasagawa Kyoko waved them inside. Mukuro was once more surprised, because _he_ would have left any guests waiting at the door. Chrome bowed with a muttered "thank you Sasagawa-san." He trailed awkwardly behind her. Following Chrome's lead, he took his shoes off at the entrance and moved to sit beside her in the kitchen.

Chrome had been raised in a different environment than Mukuro, and this was clearly more familiar to her even if she was still keeping her head down. She thanked Sasagawa once more as they were offered tea. Meanwhile Mukuro was looking around, observing the house they were in.

The kitchen was cluttered in a way that was much cleaner than their own residence was. There were no dirty dishes around, but the surfaces were instead filled with decorations and appliances alike. There was also a high number of healthy looking plants, which could never have been found in their apartment. 

There were pictures on the windowsill, some of which had the woman in it together with other people. There were several males that kept repeating across the photos, and Mukuro couldn't be certain whether they were Ryohei or someone else.

The water had only just been put to heat when they heard loud footsteps rush down the stairs. A second later a head peeked into the kitchen. Wet hair was falling into the man's face, and his eyes flickered to Kyoko before they went back and forth between Mukuro and Chrome. When the man's gaze settled, it was staring unerringly at him.

What Mukuro also noticed was that the man was naked except for a towel around his waist.

"Brother! Why aren't you dressed?" the sister asked, and Mukuro could see with a glance that she was hiding a grin behind her hand. 

Mukuro's eyes fell back on Ryohei, and he didn't hide how his gaze went downwards. The man had an incredibly toned upper body, muscles clearly defined and further enhanced by the droplets left after his shower.

It was... Not an unpleasant sight.

His thoughts were interrupted by a rather surprising snort of laughter from Chrome. He glanced at her, and she was holding a hand in front of her mouth as well. It seemed she couldn't hold back her own amusement at the situation. Unbidden, Mukuro felt a smile make its way onto his own face.

Ryohei seemed to have been in a similar trance, because he said a single "Ah!" before Kyoko moved over to shoo him back upstairs. He went, but not before giving Mukuro and Chrome another once-over.

The moment the siblings were out of the room, Chrome fell into a giggling fit that somehow also resolved Mukuro's tension. His shoulders had slowly been creeping up towards his ears, but at the sound of her laughter he leaned back and breathed out.

"I think I like them, Mukuro-kun," Chrome whispered. She grabbed his hand beneath the table, and he sent her a tiny smile of thanks.

He'd been right. This wouldn't have gone near as well without her presence.

"I'm sorry about him! I think he slept badly tonight," Kyoko said as she walked back into the kitchen. Her expression didn't look the least bit apologetic.

Chrome smiled shyly back in response to Kyoko's brightness.

"Oh! I don't think I got your names earlier? I'm Kyoko, but you probably already knew that," she introduced herself, and took a seat by the table. Kyoko served them tea, as well as a plate of sugar-coated cookies and chocolates.

Mukuro took the cup he'd been offered, mostly to have somewhere to keep his free hand. The porcelain was slowly heating up from the tea.

"I'm Dokuro Chrome. Nice to meet you." Chrome bowed her head slightly. Kyoko did the same, and directed her attention to Mukuro. Expectant.

"Rokudo Mukuro," he said, and watched as her hand froze as she was reaching over to the plate of sweets.

Kyoko's surprise was only broken by Ryohei running into the kitchen. He was fully dressed this time.

"I'm back!" he announced, and sat down with a thud on the only chair that was left unoccupied. His head turned quickly to look from one person to the next, his eyebrows bunching as he took in the strange silence.

"Ah, brother, this is Chrome-san. And... Mukuro-san."

While the two didn't look much alike, Ryohei's hair being a pale almost white color and his body language being much more abrupt than Kyoko's, the family resemblance was obvious when his body froze in the exact same way Kyoko's had moments before.

Ryohei was staring at Mukuro like his eyes were going to pop out. Had it been in any other situation, Mukuro would have felt pleased at having bewildered his company in such a way. Now however, he was feeling too vulnerable and anxious and sick to his stomach to even think of enjoying it.

Then suddenly Ryohei was moving, and he was throwing himself over the table to grip Mukuro. For a second he thought the man was about to headbutt him, or throw him out of the chair. His powers reared in response, his hand jumping from his teacup to make certain Ryohei would _regret_ touching him like that. Yet Ryohei only held on to him, his eyes staring into Mukuro's for a prolonged moment. Before Mukuro could decide to go with his attack anyway, a grin broke out on his soulmate's face.

"I can't believe you're here! To the extreme, I'm so surprised!" Ryohei exclaimed. His grip loosened, and Mukuro immediately took the opportunity to retreat back in his chair. Ryohei let him. Then he turned towards his sister, his grin bright. "It's him!"

Kyoko smiled back, her eyes flickering towards Mukuro.

After a brief flash of indecision on her face, Kyoko turned towards Chrome. "Would you like to take a little walk, Chrome-san? We can let the two of them talk."

Chrome looked at Mukuro, and he squeezed her hand. It might be for the best, to get the hard conversation out of the way without Ryohei's sister around to interrupt or look unnecessarily sad or even just to influence Ryohei's actions in the way that relations usually did. It was better that they would be without an audience when Mukuro showed him who he truly was, beyond just a name crossing Ryohei's heart.

The two women got up and exited the kitchen. Mukuro could hear quiet chatter as they walked to the front door.

Neither he nor Ryohei said anything before the door went. Once it did, though, Ryohei was a waterfall of questions.

"So where do you live? What do you do? I was so sure we would just randomly meet on the street, or maybe in some tournament! This is--" he stopped abruptly, halted by Mukuro's hand in the air.

"Look," Mukuro started. He wasn't certain what to say, but talked on anyway. "I do not want to be your One. I came here to free myself from your name once and for all. If you ever want to be happy, you will forget about me and find someone else."

While it was along the lines of what he'd planned all along, the words still left a clump of unease at the pit of his stomach. The words were final. They were a confession, something that cut so close to the bone that Mukuro felt entirely exposed in front of this stranger. It was also the only way.

After having seen just a tiny bit of Ryohei's life, Mukuro knew he couldn't kill the man. He had plenty of deeds dirtying his conscience, and he would not let this be one of them.

Except that he already felt guilty about the crestfallen look on Ryohei's face. This was the only way, but something was still beckoning him to _try_. What if he'd like it, the white picket fence and the sister in law and the frank honesty in Ryohei's expression?

It was ridiculous, and so tempting he didn't know whether to laugh or look for glass to break. 

He did neither. He just watched as Ryohei's face morphed from confusion, to sadness, to something hard and still that didn't seem like it belonged among the sentimental photos and bright ceramics.

"Why?" Ryohei asked, and his voice was unerringly steady.

"Why what?" Mukuro snapped back. He didn't want to explain. He wanted to say his piece and leave, to not have to see whatever his words left behind.

"Why should I forget about you? Your name is on my heart for a reason. I refuse to give up until I find out what that reason is!"

Ryohei's tone wasn't angry, not exactly. It did however give Mukuro a sense of will, a premonition that fighting back would be futile.

There was nothing Mukuro hated more than to be restricted. He ignored his intuition and stood from his seat, hands splayed over the edge of the table.

"I did not come here to debate you. My decision is final, and it would be easier for you to just accept it and move on."

Mukuro moved towards the exit, and only stopped because he felt the strong grip of Ryohei on his shoulder. He spun around, ready to spit an insult or two in the man's face, and was stopped short by Ryohei's expression.

He was smiling. Not the exuberant grin from before, but a calm, reassuring smile that made his stomach turn. 

"I won't. I'll convince you," Ryohei said with such utter conviction that Mukuro froze where he stood.

There was something familiar about it, and just the thought of that made alarms blare in his head. Was there really something in it, that soulmates had a connection even before they met? Had Ryohei been with him all along, and Mukuro had merely not known?

Ryohei released his hold, and Mukuro ran. He ran out the door, out into the street, past houses that looked too neat and lawns and gardens that were well kept. He ran until he found her, and then he gripped her hand and pulled her along. He barely heard Chrome utter a "goodbye!" as he led the way to the train station.

Only when they neared the town center did Mukuro's panic subside. Calm came over him like an embrace, a blanket of serenity enveloping him. Chrome's hand was warm in his. They walked to the train tracks, and waited on the platform in silence.

Now that his emotions were unclouded, Mukuro could see that he should have handled the conversation differently. Yet the dread coiled around him, the thought that the visit had not only failed, it had made everything worse. Mukuro was more bound than ever, tied to a person who now knew of his existence. Who was aware of the leash he held, and where it led.

The train arrived, and Chrome tugged him forwards and towards some of the only empty seats in the compartment. 

Her calm did little for his dread.

It did however give him the clarity to look down and notice he had left his shoes behind. His socks were tattered and dirty from the long walk to the train station. With a sigh Mukuro leaned against Chrome, and settled his head in the crook of her neck.

////

It was clear that the others knew to avoid him that night, because nobody knocked on his door or asked him anything whenever he encountered any of the others. Mukuro had noticed Fran hovering, but in the end they had left without saying anything.

Somehow they all seemed to know that something had happened. The next day Mukuro was left one offering after another, none of them bothering to try and talk to him. M.M had left him a necklace where the beads were all candy. Fran left him a doll with a bobbing head, and Ken had found his charger, which Mukuro had been missing for most of a year already. Chrome came by at regular intervals to sit beside him, not influencing him but just being there. Chikusa had come by with an entire pizza, and not taken a single piece for himself.

In the end it was none of these things that snapped Mukuro out of his state of mind.

The slamming of the front door had warned Mukuro of movement within the apartment. A few seconds later the door to his bedroom opened.

Silhouetted in the doorway was Lancia. The man had gotten a new depth to his tan in his time away, but the lines under his eyes were ever present.

"Boss," he greeted, his face giving nothing away as he regarded Mukuro there, in the splendor of his dark bedroom.

Mukuro just stared, waiting for Lancia to leave.

Apparently, leaving was not part of Lancia's plan.

"I have something to show you. Please come," Lancia said, and it didn't sound much like a request. Mukuro thought about refusing. There was something about Lancia's expression that had him moving though, something unsettled.

He threw on his standard outfit for secret outings, and Lancia didn't stop him to tell him it was unnecessary. So it was indeed vigilante business, and Lancia wanted him to deal with it.

That notion could have made him angry. For some reason it didn't, just made him feel resigned. He did this of his own volition, his own free choice, and yet at some point it had become a responsibility. A thing he did not only because he wanted to. He needed to, he _had to_. Never mind that he could stop at any moment, that he could throw away his vigilante identity and do something completely new if he'd wished. He could become a villain, someone who easily extorted others. He could stop using his powers entirely. He could get a normal nine to five job where people spoke about newly opened coffee shops and the boss' newest demands in the breaks.

Or he could keep beating up assholes who held entire empires at their fingertips and still wanted more.

It was not much of a choice, really.

He followed Lancia out of the apartment, the gazes of the others trailing them through the front door. One even stayed with them past that, Ken's eyes a peculiar sensation on his neck as they left the building.

They strode through the streets until the shaded alleys opened up before them into the docks. It only took them a few minutes, their apartment located close to the murkier parts of the city where wares came and went through boxes and shipping containers. 

Nothing seemed amiss among the tall industrial boats filled with containers or fishing equipment. Lancia clearly knew where to go, because he stalked across the concrete without pause. His eyes were trained on something in the distance, and Mukuro followed without question. If the man thought this was something that demanded his attention, then Mukuro trusted that. Lancia wasn't the kind to get worked up without sufficient reason.

"This one," Lancia spoke, stopping suddenly in front of one of the larger ships. Mukuro stared up at it, but found nothing amiss on the outside.

Through the use of Lancia's powers, they climbed onto the boat with a chain fastened by a grappling hook. Mukuro went first, shrouding himself in darkness so he wouldn't be seen.

They both made it onto the ship. Mukuro had been looking around, but there had been no signs of life either aboard the ship or on the docks. It was strange, because usually there would be plenty of activity even during nighttime. The only person he could see was staggering along the edge of the water further down the bay, not even glancing their way whenever they stopped for a breather.

The silence sat like a weight. Mukuro started searching the ship, not caring much for being heard at this point. His illusions oscillated around him, and if anyone tried to attack him they would assuredly miss their first hit. He'd make certain they wouldn't have time for a second one.

All indications pointed towards the ship being abandoned. He eyed the tenseness of Lancia's frame, and he kept searching. They wouldn't be there without a reason.

As they entered the lowest deck a stench hit him. It smelled of death. Emptied guts and drying blood, it was a smell that had never hit Mukuro with such an intensity before. They moved down the dark hallway, and into the cargo hold.

The room was covered in bodies. Most were younger, though some were as old as their late teens. Most of the bodies were in the containers, but some seemed to have struggled towards the exit before they had been downed.

They had all been shot down at a distance. It was clear that whoever had done it had merely opened the containers and started shooting. It was a massacre. It was also senseless, because it made no sense that they should be trafficked here only to be slaughtered.

Sick to his stomach and fuming with rage, Mukuro still took the time to look around. He was quickly rewarded; something stood out clearly among the other bodies, different from the rest. There were bodies that didn't fit in, bodies that were older and rougher and all males. It was hard to tell if they were familiar, because all had their faces smashed to a pulp.

"Shimmer?" Lancia inquired.

Mukuro nodded. "Presumably. I know he was going to look into a shipment that would be arriving soon." He took another moment to observe how brutally these men had been killed; their faces were roughed up, but it was probably a punch to their windpipe that had killed most of them. Many had necks that were blue and swollen with blood, and if Shimmer had wanted them dead that would have been the easiest and quickest when his only weapon was his fists.

It was a macabre scene. Yet at the very least some of the men responsible had gotten punished for it. Not all of them, though: there were no weapons left around, and Mukuro doubted Shimmer was the type to collect them. So someone had come to clean up, yet strangely left most behind. Another thing that made little sense.

It was time to pay someone a little visit, if Shimmer hadn't gotten there first. Mukuro still had that name noted down, the one that Shimmer had received from Reborn.

He and Lancia left the lower decks of the boat. Lancia was silent, but there was an aura to the man that spoke plenty. He was clearly just as mad about the situation. Knowing him there would be more than just a few heads smashed in by the end of the night.

Speaking of which...

"Tell me, how _did_ you know about this?"

Lancia's eyes kept resolutely to the hallway ahead.

Mukuro was certain he already knew.

"You've been talking to Luce again?" he asked, not letting his dismay heard through his tone. Mukuro might dislike her. Even so, it was not within his rights to govern Lancia's relations with others.

With the way Lancia's shoulders tensed, it seemed he had his answer already.

Mukuro let the pause hang between them, and by the time they reached the last hatch leading up Lancia spoke.

"She wouldn't tell me anything else. Just that this boat held something that you'd be interested in knowing."

With a glance backward and a hum of acknowledgement, Mukuro heaved himself up the last steps of the ladder.

The outside air was crisp, and it was a relief to breathe deeply after the smell of the cargo hold had set itself so deeply in his nose. Lancia followed easily behind him.

This kind of situation was exactly the reason Mukuro disliked Luce. The way she would pull strings but never get involved, how she knew this would come to pass and never lifted a finger to stop it. It was the kind of thing that made Mukuro's blood boil. Even so, even with this, Mukuro would never go between Lancia and her. Mukuro could be mad at Luce all he wanted. That was still his problem only, and not something he would force on Lancia.

The two of them were moving off the boat when something caught Mukuro's attention. A movement, distant yet clear against the city lights. Someone was watching them, standing on the roof of the dock's watchhouse. It was impossible to see much from this distance, but Mukuro thought there was something familiar about theoutline of the figure.

"Someone's watching. Let's catch them and see just what they're watching for, hm?" Mukuro said, before he went across the plank tied to the docks. There was no reason for hiding, so he didn't; he was a shadow moving across the docks, the street lights overhead never hitting his form as he stalked towards his target.

Surprisingly, the target started approaching them as well. The person stepped off the roof, dropping to the concrete without a sound. 

The shape coming towards them out the shadows cast by the watchhouse proved to be familiar, though dressed differently than he usually was.

Where Shimmer usually dressed in a more flashy ensemble, today he was dressed in all black. Even his mask was different. The mask he wore now covered his entire face except for his jaw, which wouldn't be visible normally. Despite this he was still easy to place; Mukuro recognized him just from the gait, walking the elegant walk of an athlete even as his muscles bulged visibly underneath his spandex.

Another recognizable thing were his steel grey gaze, almost glowing in the low lighting.

Mukuro wanted to lash out at him. The bodies of tens if not hundreds of children were still seared into the back of his eyelids, their blood making up the backdrop of the scene. This was the man at least partly responsible, and Mukuro soon had him within reach. He'd only have to reach out, and he could inflict that vision upon the man again and again until he begged to be released.

There was something in his demeanor that made him hesitate to do so. Whether it was his body language or if it was their shared history, it was hard to say. Mukuro's hand never lifted, and Shimmer a meter or so away.

"You saw them," Shimmer confirmed. When Mukuro nodded, he charged on. "I've been attempting to find the one responsible. For some reason they knew I was coming, and the moment I stepped onto the ship they started shooting down in the hull. I... I couldn't get there in time to stop it. There were only six survivors in the end."

Six out of hundred. It was laughable. It was tragic. It was enough that Mukuro's nails bit into his hands, shadows flickering across his vision.

A hand touched his shoulder. Lancia's grip was a solid thing, and Mukuro felt grounded.

Few people touched him, but Lancia had never feared to do so even while Mukuro was lashing out. It was a comfort, and it strengthened his resolve.

"You clearly should have asked for help," Mukuro said, his voice laced with a sweetness that would make even the dumbest grunt wary.

He could hardly fault Shimmer for not asking him, however. They didn't have the sort of relationship where partnering up was a natural thing. It always came at random, and it always came because it was the only thing that made sense from the situation.

Even so, Mukuro couldn't help but dig at the failure just a little. The traffickers never would have seen Shimmer coming if he was accompanied by Mukuro, after all.

"The name you got from Reborn. That's the man responsible?" He inquired, when Shimmer didn't reply to his barb.

"Yes. I've been attempting to find him, but so far..." Shimmer trailed off, a grimace twisting the only visible part of his face. It was strange to see this part of Shimmer's expressions; usually Mukuro would only have his eyes and creases in cloth to go off.

Shimmer's chin was sharply cut, and Mukuro allowed himself a moment to observe it move as Shimmer spoke. Strange how such a small detail could change the man's looks so drastically.

"I assume your informant didn't tell you anything about this? Mukuro inquired, tilting his head to show he was talking to Lancia. The man shook his head, and Mukuro sighed. Luce was only useful when it suited her.

"Fine. Do _you_ have anything that could lead us to them? An item belonging to them, blood, something of that sort?"

Shimmer hesitated. Mukuro could see it in the lines of his body, and how his grey eyes flicked between Mukuro and Lancia. Then he reached behind him, and pulled out a gun.

"I did manage to grab this off one of the guys who escaped," Shimmer said, his tone empty of inflection as he stared at Mukuro.

It perhaps said something about how Mukuro trusted Shimmer's intentions, that he hadn't reacted on the man bringing out a gun. Also, he assumed Shimmer would be much better at harming Mukuro if he were to grab a hold of him and pummel him with his fists instead. Even so, he didn't normally react well to people pulling guns on him.

"Perfect," he murmured, and took the offered firearm. "Lancia," he then directed, "please go and grab Ken. Feel free to bring whoever else would like to join us as well."

Most of the group weren't usually inclined towards this sort of action. The only exceptions being Ken and Fran, who both had mutations that suited well towards fighting. The others either weren't built for it, or disliked it enough to avoid it where they could.

Lancia took the gun that Mukuro was still holding out, and proceeded to jog away from them.

"Shouldn't we follow?" Shimmer said, gazing after where Lancia was disappearing down an alleyway.

"He'll send a message once they've caught a scent," Mukuro answered. He leaned against a wall, giving Shimmer a searching look. The illusions across his face were lifted just enough for a smirk to be visible.

Shimmer was visibly tense. Now that they were alone, he suddenly seemed to be looking everywhere other than Mukuro. He idly wondered whether the man was actually contemplating leaving, despite them having agreed to work together.

Well, _agreed_ was perhaps exaggerating slightly. More like, Shimmer hadn't denied them the information that he had, and Mukuro hadn't said he _wouldn't_ help.

"I must admit, I was somewhat surprised to see proof of your brutality down there," Mukuro murmured, after having watched as Shimmer shifted from one pose to another for almost a full minute. What he said clearly didn't help; the man clenched his fists even harder, his mouth turning into a thin line. "I mean, usually you do at least _attempt_ to make your killing seem more of an accident," he mused, smiling as Shimmer finally turned to face him fully.

"You saw how things looked down there." Shimmer's voice was so low it was like Mukuro could feel the vibrations through his chest. His smile widened.

"Oh, don't get me wrong. I approve," he told him, his voice going lower as well in a reflection of Shimmer's. He saw the man's mouth open slightly, clearly surprised.

It was something of a rush to see those emotions so clearly on his face.

Shimmer took a step closer. "You... Approve." he repeated.

"Don't you find it gets tedious pretending to be good all the time? Pretending that these people even deserve to live, when they ship and slaughter children like they're cattle?" Mukuro said, his disdain made clear in his tone. There were heroes who thought no criminal was beyond redemption. Mukuro had never been so naive as to believe people ever truly changed. A murderer might stop killing, but that didn't mean they weren't capable of doing so again.

Mukuro straightened his stance, no longer leaning against the wall. It brought him even closer to Shimmer, who was staring at him with an intensity that Mukuro wasn't sure if he disliked. Then those steel eyes flickered for just a fragment of a moment, and Mukuro's smile turned wider. A challenge.

Shimmer wavered. Then his expression changed subtly, and he veered forwards.

It would have been easy to stop him, had Mukuro wished to do so. But Shimmer wasn't unattractive, and Mukuro's mind still wouldn't stop replaying the last words he'd exchanged with Ryohei. So he met the brush of lips with a smirk before leaning into it fully.

Shimmer was trying to be careful. Mukuro could tell through how soft the press of his lips were, from how his hands were hovering but not touching. He himself felt none of that hesitation; his hands went up to hold Shimmer's neck, just barely brushing against the spiky hairs at the nape of it. He used his hold to get closer, feeling a wave of arousal and pleasure as their mouths fit together that was stronger than any he had ever felt before. It was almost like a spark was shooting through his body as his tongue brushed against Shimmer's lower lip.

His body's reaction was so strong it felt unnatural, and Mukuro couldn't help the small sound that escaped him. With that Shimmer also relaxed into it, and Mukuro wondered idly if how he was feeling related to Shimmer's powers. Perhaps his body could influence others just the same as it influenced him?

The feeling of it was intoxicating, and Mukuro only leaned back when it came to the point where he could hardly breathe, when his body was shivering so much he almost couldn't stand straight. At this point he leaned backward, the wall a shocking cold even through his layers of clothes.

"Hmm. That was..." Mukuro murmured. He wasn't even sure how to describe it; Shimmer seemed to agree, his eyes half-lidded and his breath heavy as he stood there.

Mukuro didn't lean back in, didn't come back for more, and in the end Shimmer took a step back.

"I do think _you_ are good," Shimmer said suddenly, and it took a moment for the words to sink through the haze fogging up Mukuro's thought processes.

When they did however, it was instantly sobering.

" _What?_ " he exclaimed, straightening up and regarding Shimmer with _utter confusion_.

He was certain the man wasn't talking about Mukuro's kissing abilities.

"You're a good person Phantasm," Shimmer said, like it was that easy. Like that was his decision to make.

Mukuro couldn't help it. He started laughing. Once he'd started, he had a hard time stopping. It was ridiculous. Mukuro was the last person anyone would ever count as _good_ , and Shimmer had personally witnessed many of the times where Mukuro hadn't held back. Where he'd trapped people inside their own minds until they were sobbing and begging to be released.

His laughter died off slowly. Shimmer just stood there, waiting for him to stop, and Mukuro felt something rotten coiling in his chest.

"Right," he said at last, his voice utterly devoid of emotion. A contrast to his laughter, yet Shimmer was still staring at him with such clear determination in his eyes.

The look reminded him unnervingly of his soulmate. With a sneer, Mukuro turned to stalk out of the alleyway. 

He heard Shimmer's light gait following behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I say I was gonna do just the two chapters on this? Hah. Yeah....
> 
> Mukuro is a ball of mood changes and drama and I love him? I also maybe got a bit inspired by Howl from Howl's Moving Castle for some of this.


	3. Chapter 3

It took much longer than Mukuro would have wished for them to receive a message from Lancia. By the time his phone chimed, Mukuro had sat down at one of the benches outside a closed cafe, ignoring how Shimmer was standing a few meters away. The man was hovering. At the very least he hadn't attempted to start up mindless small talk. Keeping up empty chatter in order to stave the awkwardness was not on Mukuro's list of desirables at the moment. Neither was Shimmer's presence, but it would be strange for him to ask the man to go elsewhere.

What had formerly been a pleasant kiss had left a sour aftertaste in his mouth. He didn't want to think on it, and yet his mind kept going back. It was inevitable that his own mind would punish him for his rashness. Mukuro found it utterly unfair how Shimmer could clearly regard it with such casualness while _his_ brain felt the need to bombard him with unresolved thoughts and feelings. His mind kept calling up every little detail, every little touch and sensation. It was maddening.

Mukuro pulled up his phone, as much for a distraction as to see the message written there. All it said was a street and a number; a google search revealed that the location was halfway across the city.

"Let's go."

Shimmer followed wordlessly, a heavy presence at Mukuro's back.

The man didn't say anything when Mukuro stopped at the closest buss stop either. Just stood at his side waiting, occasionally glancing at Mukuro before looking away again.

Mukuro's illusions fell into something more natural-looking; he looked like a plain-faced man, sandy-haired and with bags under his eyes. Thus it was only Shimmer that received whispers as they stepped onto the bus. While it was late, there were still plenty of people out. Several were looking drunk. Some were getting there, thinking they were sneaky with the way they hid their beers behind the seat in front of them.

It wasn't before they'd sat down near the back of the bus that Shimmer talked.

"So this is how you usually get places." Shimmer was looking out the window, and it seemed strangely like Shimmer tried to avoid looking at him. Who'd think that the man would prefer the horrific nightmare faces that Mukuro wore as his usual disguise, over the face of a man that was made to be unnoticeable?

"I didn't see you offering to get your car or anything," Mukuro said, perhaps a tad too defensively. He saw Shimmer's mouth twitch upwards at his words.

"I don't have a car."

It was somehow unexpected. Despite how Shimmer dressed quite casually for a superhero, Mukuro had always assumed he was wealthy somehow. Perhaps it was just because Mukuro himself was poor, and had thought Shimmer to be his opposite.

"That is certainly... Unexpected."

Shimmer shrugged, but didn't seem bothered by his presumption. "What is your favorite color?" he asked, and Mukuro was left blinking.

"What?" 

The man just waited. Still looking out the window. Mukuro noticed how his shoulders had relaxed from where they'd been notably tense before.

In the end, Shimmer won the waiting game. Mukuro rolled his eyes, before drawling "Pink".

Shimmer actually looked up at him when he said this.

"Wh- Really?"

Mukuro did another eye-roll for good measure.

"No."

Glancing at him, it was clear that Shimmer was frowning. Then his eyes widened, and he looked almost _panicked_.

"Wait- I didn't mean- Pink is a great color! It would be totally cool if that was your favorite!"

Mukuro was left looking at Shimmer in perplexed silence. What was going on with him? This night Mukuro had seen so many different sides of Shimmer he was getting a whiplash. It made sense that Shimmer might feel flustered after their kiss, even if it had not seemed like it at the time. With how strange he was acting, Mukuro was starting to wonder if something else was up as well.

"Pink is not my favorite color."

Shimmer looked bemused. 

It really was a relief when the screen at the front of the bus announced their stop as the next one.

///

He would hardly admit to it even under duress, but Mukuro had been foolish. He had lingered just a moment too long, transmitting visions of nightmares to a guard who'd directed their gun at Ken. He hadn't been quick enough, hadn't looked around to make sure he wouldn't be targeted. Then there had been pain; sharp, unexpected, piercing pain. He bent over, hand jumping to where his shirt was quickly growing wet with his own blood. His illusions were flickering across his vision, and Mukuro tried to concentrate on keeping them there while the pain was growing more and more intense. He looked around; his allies were quickly clearing the room, Shimmer currently working on making the boss' face unrecognizable. Ken was ripping into another of the boss' bodyguard to Mukuro's right. As he glanced at them, it was clear that this was the guy who had shot him.

Mukuro glanced backwards. Chikusa only just came into view before Mukuro's vision blacked out.

The next time he woke he was being lifted. He hissed in pain, but that didn't make the person put him back down. Instead he was held securely to their chest.

It was a chest toned with muscles, and even through his haze Mukuro could feel the individual's muscles tense and shift as he was carried away from the spot he'd been lying.

"I'll take him from here," Lancia's voice said from somewhere close. Mukuro wondered if there was some hostility in his tone, or if it was just the gruffness Lancia usually spoke with.

He felt the arms holding him tighten in response.

"I've got it. Just tell me where to go."

For a moment Mukuro didn't recognize the voice. Since his ear was pressed to the person's chest, the voice was vibrating through him much more than it would normally.

It also wasn't like he heard this voice near as often as he did Lancia's.

"If you think we're just gonna show you where we live then you're dead wrong!"

This was Ken's voice, and he sounded more aggressive than usual.

Not so surprising, if a stranger was asking them where they lived.

Mukuro glanced up at the man that was carrying him.

"It's okay," he said. Then he groaned; talking had moved something inside him that was _really goddamn painful_.

Shimmer glanced down at him. He was looking pretty worried, Mukuro decided.

"I assume you don't want to go to a hospital."

There were two resounding "no!"s from the others accompanying them.

"Very well. If you show me where you live, I promise I will not misuse the information."

In the end they all agreed to let Shimmer keep carrying Mukuro. While he knew part of their agreement stemmed from Mukuro's words, he also suspected just as much came from Shimmer offering to provide transportation.

It showed how out of it he was, that he hardly noticed Shimmer making a call. The next time Mukuro opened his eyes, a car door was opening in front of them.

"If you get blood on my seats you're buying me a new car Sa- stupid," a gruff voice said from the front seat. From his position in the back, Mukuro could only just see silver hair haloing the headrest of the driver's seat. 

Shimmer grunted in response, and Mukuro couldn't tell if it was an agreement or just a sound to make the driver shut up. The man in the front seemed to take it as the former, because he started the car without further protest.

It took another few minutes of lying there before Mukuro noticed that Lancia had taken the middle seat in the back, Chikusa at his side. Ken was in the front, and Mukuro had a hard time focusing on what he was chattering about. The driver was responding in a terse tone. Mukuro wondered idly whether it might come to a fight.

He fell away from consciousness again, and the next thing that woke him was the jostling of his wound as he was being carried up stairs.

Then he was in his bed. Chikusa was standing over him, face pinched in concentration.

"Will I live, doctor?" Mukuro murmured. Despite his serious expression, Chikusa chuckled.

"I'm afraid we'll have to amputate. It will be tough living without a stomach, but I'm sure you'll manage," he joked. Mukuro could feel Chikusa moving around his stomach area, but couldn't register any pain. How nice.

"Splendid. I was severely lacking a tragic backstory," he slurred, and leaned his head back to redirect his gaze to the ceiling. His mind was a haze, and Mukuro spent the time Chikusa used to work on him exploring the limits of his current thought processes.

The conclusion he'd come to by the time Chikusa stepped away from him, was that thinking was pretty hard.

"Alright. I got the bullet out. As long as there's no infection it should heal fine on its own," Chikusa said. He was wiping his hand on a white towel. A red towel.

"Mmm, that's nice."

He could barely register Chikusa nodding.

"Right. I think it's time that you leave. Show's over. And Phantasm will be doped the fuck out for a while anyway," Chikusa said. It took some time for Mukuro to realize his friend wasn't talking to _him_. When he did, he craned his neck to see if he could spot the other person in the room.

On reflection, it was really easy to find the person, since he was sitting right beside Mukuro.

"Shimmer!" Mukuro cheered. The person jumped. He paid it no mind. "How lovely to see you here. We've really transcended our aquintans- ackui- friendship borders this time," he chuckled. Mukuro attempted to move his body so that he wouldn't have to strain his neck, but realized quickly that his feet were tied to the table he was on. Hmmm.

Before Mukuro could figure it out, Chikusa had already released him.

He immediately swung his legs off the table. The world swayed a bit before it steadied.

Chikusa was standing between him and Shimmer, and Mukuro watched them as Chikusa told the man to leave.

It seemed like Shimmer didn't want to. Mukuro was about to open his mouth to say that he didn't mind. Before he could, two more people showed up in the room. Lancia was looking bigger than ever, arms crossed in such a way that his muscles were bulging. Chrome looked tiny beside him, but on her face was a frown that was more scary than Lancia and Chikusa's put together.

Shimmer relented. He left. Mukuro made sure to shout goodbye to him before the outer door of the apartment slammed shut.

"You gave me a lot of pain medication, didn't you," Mukuro said once Chikusa came back into the room. He poked at his bandages. There was still no pain.

He could see Chikusa shrugging. "You're a wimp. We didn't want to listen to you whine for hours on end."

_Liar_. Chikusa was just a big softie, and didn't want Mukuro to be in pain.

"I don't _whine_ ," he said, pouting.

The man snorted, and started tugging him towards the bed. His bed. They were in his bedroom.

Shimmer had also been in his bedroom.

"What was he doing here, anyway?"

"He wouldn't leave. Said he refused to do so until he knew you were okay. Heroes, huh?"

Mukuro chuckled. "Heroes," he agreed, though something felt wrong about the thought.

He'd think on it later, he decided. The softness of his bed greeted him.

_Much_ later.

///

The next time he awoke, it was for no apparent reason. The room was quiet, or at least as quiet as it got. Outside were the sound of cars and people and other sounds one got used to, living in a city. He could also hear what sounded like a video game being played in the other room, accompanied by muffled commentary.

It only took half a minute of wakefulness before someone knocked at his door. For a few seconds, Mukuro contemplated not answering and going back to sleep.

The person didn't give him the opportunity. After knocking, they opened his door. The movement was somewhat careful, like they didn't want to make unnecessary noise.

Chrome walked through the door, a tiny smile alighting on her face when she saw that he was awake.

"I brought you some food," she said, her tone a clear contrast to the sudden shouting from the living room. Mukuro assumed someone was losing whatever game they were playing.

A tray was placed in his lap. On it was a simple serving of toast with jam on it. A cup of coffee was placed beside the plate, still hot enough he could feel the heat radiating through the air.

"Thank you," he murmured. Chrome took a seat beside him, and started sipping on her own cup of steaming tea. 

They spent minutes in companionable silence as Mukuro ate the crunchy toast.

"I kissed Shimmer," he said, after he had moved on from the toast and started on the coffee.

"... I see. Did you like it?"

"It was like kissing an electrical cable."

"Ah."

Mukuro didn't even know himself. _Had_ he liked it? At this point, the experience had gotten somewhat overwritten with everything that came after, and the kiss was only a side-note. Yet he knew that it had gotten to him. It had been intense. 

He didn't regret doing it, but he did wonder what came next. Did he want more? Did Shimmer want more?

"Are you going to do it again?"

Mukuro was nearing the bottom of his cup when Chrome spoke again. It was a question he was asking himself as well, and he was no closer to finding an answer to it.

"It wasn't unpleasant," Mukuro shrugged. As he was opening up to the possibility of letting it happen again, Mukuro could feel his body start to grow hot. The bed sheets were too enclosing, the coffee an uncomfortable shiver inside his gut.

"What do you think about him?" Mukuro asked, because Chrome wasn't going to offer an opinion if he didn't.

Looking at her, she seemed to have been lost in her own train of thought.

"About... Shimmer?"

"Who else would I be talking about?" Mukuro responded, and immediately realized who she was thinking of.

It was only last week that they had gone to see his soulmate. It felt like both more and less, with how the days had blurred together as he'd spent most of his time in his bedroom.

"He's... Strange. He isn't acting how I'd expected him to."

That was certainly something they had in common.

"He started acting strange after I kissed him. Perhaps he's actually a forty year old virgin," Mukuro chuckled. Chrome had a wry smile on her lips, and the look she was giving him made something twinge in him. He reached out to grab her hand. She squeezed back lightly.

"You are in big need of a sugar daddy," Chrome said, and her tone was perfectly innocent. Mukuro choked on his last, luke-warm sip of coffee.

"Like M.M isn't bad enough."

Chrome giggled.

They spent another few hours switching between stretches of silence and talking about everything and nothing. At some point during this, Fran popped their head in the door and managed to integrate themselves into the conversation without the slightest hitch. The next to join them was M.M, who sat in the bed with her feet slung across Mukuro's. After she joined it was like the rest saw a green light to do so as well. They all piled into the room, even Chikusa. In the end the room was filled to the brim, some on the bed and some on the floor, while Chrome kept occupying the only chair in the room. 

The group was loud and rowdy and cheerful, and Mukuro found himself content in a way he hadn't felt in months.

///

It somehow came as a complete surprise to absolutely everyone when Ryohei knocked on the door the next day.

By the strangest of coincidences, Mukuro had actually been the one to answer the door. There stood Ryohei, a bouquet of flowers in his hand and a bright grin on his face.

Mukuro kind of wanted to punch him.

"What are you doing here!?" he hissed instead. Mukuro wished fervently that looks could kill, because the glare he was sending Ryohei seemed to have no effect at all.

"I brought you these!" Ryohei grinned, as if this was in any way a proper response to his question.

As Mukuro attempted to shut the door in his face, Ryohei stopped him with ease.

There were footsteps behind him, and then Ken stood on his toes to glance over Mukuro's shoulder. "Who is it?"

The moment Ryohei opened his mouth to answer, Mukuro knew what was coming.

"I'm his--" his soulmate started, before he was interrupted by Mukuro diving forward and slapping a hand over Ryohei's mouth. Mukuro used his grip on the other's face to push him away from the door, then closed it behind himself with a _bang_.

He was not about to let Ryohei say anything else within earshot of his flatmates. Mukuro grabbed him and dragged him down the hall, which Ryohei didn't seem opposed to now that Mukuro was on the same side of the door as him.

His hand was tingling slightly where his skin had touched Ryohei. Just another thing to hate about the guy, Mukuro supposed.

"Want to go somewhere together?" Ryohei asked as they were exiting the building.

" _No_. I wanted you away from the apartment so that I could make you understand that _we are not happening_ without my entire group of friends _listening in._ " Mukuro slammed Ryohei against the brick wall of the apartment building. Even putting quite some force into it, Ryohei didn't seem to lose his breath or wince or _anything_. It only served to frustrate him further.

"It seems like I have to _show you_ why you do not want to be together with me," he hissed, and reached for Ryohei's face.

In response, Ryohei reached up and clasped his hand with his free hand.

"You can show me," Ryohei said, and his smile was calmer than before. Less manic, more determined.

Mukuro sneered, and pushed the worst nightmares he could think of through that bit of skin contact. He conjured endless corridors where it was impossible to reach the end, growing ever longer as Ryohei ran. Every doorway passed grew darker, and in them were things watching. Hands reaching out, cold and lifeless, grasping Ryohei and tugging him into the darkness and taking his clothes off and defiling him and scratching into him and teeth out of the dark digging into his muscles and taking off parts and-

Mukuro pulled back, and Ryohei's gaze cleared of illusions. Steel grey stared at him, and Mukuro stared back, just waiting for the moment when Ryohei would push him away, would call him a monster and finally be out of his life for good.

"That's a really extreme ability!" Ryohei said instead. "Can you make people see anything, or is it only scary stuff?"

Only the squeezing of Ryohei's hand in his was enough to stop him from gaping like an idiot.

"It's..."

Mukuro can't actually remember ever trying. Inducing "good" visions or hallucinations just never seemed relevant. What use could they possibly be?

They were still touching. Mukuro's hand felt like it was on fire in a strangely pleasant way.

"What do you want?" he settled on, once he came to the conclusion that he didn't have to explain himself to Ryohei. His powers were none of Ryohei's business.

The man looked thoughtful for a moment, before that same wide grin broke back onto his face. "I want to take you out to dinner!"

Mukuro rubbed his brow in consternation. It didn't seem like he would be able chase Ryohei away. 

What could he possibly do or say in order to make his soulmate leave him alone?

_Perhaps just this once. And then he'd come up with a way to properly reject him next time he showed up._

It sounded like a terrible idea. 

"Okay. But we're having Chinese. And you're paying."

Mukuro attempted to ignore how Ryohei was almost jumping beside him as they left the alleyway.

///

If anyone asked, Mukuro would probably have lied and said he'd had a terrible time.

The truth, in fact, was much more gruesome: the only time where Mukuro could truly claim to have been bored was when Ryohei started going off about boxing. And even then, there was an underlying fascination at the passionate way the man was talking about a simple sport; how he put his whole body into explaining the thrill of fighting and the amazing feeling of exertion and how you could see into people's very soul when they faced you in the ring. It was boring because it was a topic Mukuro had no interest for. Even so, he couldn't help but be pulled along with the sheer enthusiasm Ryohei was exuding.

While Ryohei did most of the talking, Mukuro might throw in a comment every now and then. The best would probably have been to stay silent and ignore Ryohei until the man figured there was no reason to try and create any sort of relationship with Mukuro. Yet he couldn't help himself. If Ryohei said something stupid or something that was easily contradicted, Mukuro took the bait. Despite his hope that Ryohei would find his sarcasm uncomfortable, the man would bark a laughter if Mukuro's quip was particularly fitting. Then Mukuro would feel a warm satisfaction curling in his stomach, and he'd keep the joke going even as his brain was screaming at him to abort.

In the end, Mukuro was almost certain that Ryohei was saying stupid stuff just to goad him into replying.

Even so, he kept rising to the bait. Ryohei kept grinning. A bright, joyful grin where he wasn't afraid to show all his teeth.

By the time they were leaving the restaurant Mukuro had a distinct feeling he'd lost.

He wasn't entirely sure if he felt bad about that, either.

///

"I don't really care if we are romantic or platonic soulmates. I just want you in my life."

It's the most cliche shit Mukuro's ever heard directed at him, but even so he felt his body heat up and his heart skip a beat.

They'd made it back to Mukuro's apartment complex. He'd been trying to figure out the best way to reject Ryohei, and then the man had said _that_.

"You have watched way too many romantic comedies," Mukuro said, and couldn't quite make his voice sound properly scathing.

He didn't want to contemplate that he might even have sounded _fond_.

"I haven't! It's just that Kyoko-chan talked about it a lot when we were kids. It got me thinking."

"Oh really? Anything more complex than "soulmates are extreme?" 

Another bark of laughter, like Mukuro had somehow managed to say something funny. He shook his head, exasperated.

"I've been thinking about it after you came to visit. And then me 'n Kyoko talked about it, and about different types of relationships, and I realized that you might not want me in a romantic way. Maybe you are aromantic to the _extreme_ , and that would be cool too! I don't mind."

It's surprisingly thoughtful. Sadly, it wasn't even close to the reason why Mukuro didn't want a soulmate.

"I am not a-romantic, or a-sexual, or heterosexual, or anything that would exclude _you_ specifically," Mukuro stated. He could see Ryohei's frown, and wondered what was going through the man's head at that moment. "I simply don't want a soulmate. If you were anyone else... But you're not. So."

Mukuro attempted to make the end of his sentence firm, like it would be enough to change Ryohei's mind about the whole thing.

It was clear it wasn't when Mukuro saw the frown replaced by something that looked suspiciously like hope.

"So it's not that you have something against me," Ryohei confirmed. 

Mukuro scowled. The look Ryohei was sending his way made him feel anxious, but also somehow... Warm. Bright.

The soulbond was more powerful than he'd even imagined, to be pulling him towards his soulmate in such a way.

"This can never happen," Mukuro said abruptly. He felt an actual jolt in his chest as Ryohei's face fell. That only spurred him on, wanting to prove that he could _resist_. He wasn't tied to follow his One around like a lovestruck puppy. " _I don't want my soulmate anywhere near me_. So if you could leave, it would make everything easier. Please. I don't want to hurt you just to make you stay away."

He realized as he said it, that it was true. Mukuro didn't _want_ to hurt Ryohei. There was already guilt gnawing at him from earlier that night, and it had been a stupid, malicious thing to put his hands on Ryohei in such a way. Even if Ryohei had said it was okay. Perhaps especially with that in mind.

Ryohei was as affected by their bond as he was, Mukuro realized with dread. Ryohei wasn't chasing after him because he was interested; he did so because he was compelled, pulled by a bond that wanted completion. He was as leashed by this curse as Mukuro was.

Perhaps it would not even be selfish, then, to keep pushing Ryohei away. It would be as much for _his_ good as it was for Mukuro's.

"I would like to understand," Ryohei said, and his voice was low and forlorn and confused, and it pulled at parts of Mukuro he hadn't even thought existed.

He wasn't certain if he wanted to shake Ryohei or to push him away. He settled for doing neither; crossing his arms, he leaned against the wall beside the entrance to the building.

"And I would like to not have to explain myself," Mukuro replied, a few beats too late to be following the conversation smoothly.

"But you're saying it's not me. It's not something I have done or will do or anything. And it's not about who I am as a --"

"It _is_ about who you are as a person. You will never not be Sasagawa Ryohei, just as I am Rokudo Mukuro. It will always be _your_ name that's etched into my skin."

"But why does that even matter?"

"The only reason you're here is because you learned my name. If you hadn't, you'd have been happy to let me walk away. _That_ is why I won't let you base our relationship on our soulbond." Mukuro was about ready to throw his hands up in frustration. He kept them crossed, but couldn't stop himself from digging his nails into the fabric of his jacket and the flesh underneath.

"And what if I told you that it's not?"

The question hung between them, and Mukuro wondered what sort of harebrained argument Ryohei was coming up with now.

"I knew of you. Before. Not by your name, but from the stuff you've done. And I was interested in you then, but I just never thought anything could come of it. Not until I found out that... Yeah."

It took too long for that sentence to make sense in his head. By the time Mukuro really, truly realized what it meant, Ryohei was looking like he was ready to explode from nervous energy alone. 

"Have you been stalking me?" Mukuro wondered, and Ryohei gaped at him. 

"What? NO!"

"So it's a happy coincidence that you know what I've done in the past?"

"It's not- I figured it out! When you used your powers on me!"

That... Made a disconcerting amount of sense. Mukuro wasn't certain how many details people knew about his alter ego's powers, but it wouldn't be strange if one of his victims had survived the experience and had published it somewhere.

"Are you... Are you a _fan_?" Mukuro asked.

By the way Ryohei's face was reddening, he supposed he'd hit bullseye.

"I- I mean-" Ryohei was waving his hands like the motion could somehow dissuade Mukuro from the assumption. 

Mukuro laughed. He bent over, laughing a full laughter he hadn't felt the likes of in a long time.

His soulmate was a fan of Phantasm. _Would wonders never cease_.

It took minutes for his laughter to die down. As he refocused on Ryohei's face, he saw that he was smiling again. Tentative but happy, it was a smile that sent an arrow straight through Mukuro's shriveled heart.

"Mukuro," Ryohei said at last. Mukuro froze where he stood, the last remains of laughter dying out at the sound. "I promise I am not only here because you're my soulmate."

Mukuro sighed. That... It shouldn't change anything. They were still tied together; he was still _bound_.

"You don't have to make the decision now, or anytime. The only thing I ask is that you'll let me try to convince you."

Rubbing his brow, Mukuro started moving towards the entrance to the building. He turned his head to look at Ryohei after opening it.

"Okay." He gave in.

It was only to make Ryohei go away, to give Mukuro time to think. It wasn't because the bright smile that stretched Ryohei's lips made warmth spread through his entire body. It wasn't because the thought of never seeing him again was making Mukuro sick to his stomach.

Mukuro went through the door, and Ryohei's joy was like the warmth of a sunbeam on his back as he walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ryohei: He'll let me try! I'll court him **to the extreme!!**  
> Mukuro: He must get tired of me rejecting him sometime. Right? Right??!?
> 
> This chapter is most definitely and absolutely dedicated to Opera and IAmStoryteller, seeing as you guys are actually enjoying this and your comments are making me really, really happy!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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